Brutal
by Strikey-Chan
Summary: Matthew is brutally beaten and starved by his sick mother. A mother who plays tortuous, unpredictable games that almost leave him dead. Always favoring Alfred and his other brothers. Screams, phobia and child abuse is what's being played out behind closed doors. He is no longer a son, but a slave. He is no longer a boy, but an 'it'. Yes, Matthew is nothing more than an 'it'.


**Prologue**

* * *

I can't take this. I'm late. I've got to finish the dishes on time, otherwise I'll have no breakfast. I didn't have any dinner last night, so I _have_ to make sure I get myself something to eat. Mother's running around yelling to herself and my brothers. I dip my hands back into the scalding rinse water. But it's too late. She had caught me with my hands out of the water.

The heat of Mother's fist hits me in the face, and I fall to the floor. I know better than to stand there and just silently take the hit. I learned the hard way that she takes that as an act of defiance, which meant more hits, and what terrifies me most, no food. I regain my posture and look down. I dodge her looks as she screams like a madman into my ears.

I act timid. I nodded to her threats. That's the kind of thing I should be doing. I begged to her to let me eat and to let me have food. Another blow pushed my skull against the counter top. I let the mock tears fool her as they stream down my face. She barges out of the kitchen, seemingly satisfied with herself. I count her steps, making sure she's gone. I breathe a sigh of relief. The act worked. And it doesn't work often. Mother can beat me all she wants, but I haven't lost my will to survive in this world.

I finish the dishes. I move on to other chores. For my prize and reward I get breakfast, which was leftovers from Alfred's cereal bowl. Today it's Honey Stars. There are only a few pieces of cereal in a half of a bowl of milk left, but I swallow it as fast as I can before Mother changes her mind. She likes using her sadistic ways to tempt me with food. She knows better than to throw it all out into the garbage can. She knows I'll dig it out later. Mother knows my tricks.

Minutes later, I'm in the old family's rusted metal car. I was so late with my chores, I had to be driven to school. Which doesn't happen a lot. Usually I just dash to school, arriving just as class is starting.

Mother drops my brother off first, but keeps me for a lecture about her plans for me tomorrow. She says, "Uncle Allistor will take care of you today." She makes it a threat, and she makes sure I know it. I give her a pathetic frightened look, as if I'm really scared. But I know that even though my uncle is a cold man, he's somewhat kind. He won't treat me like Mother does.

As soon as Mother ends her lecture with me, I dash out of the car. Mother yells at me to return. I forgot about my crumpled lunch bag, which has always had the same menu for the last odd number of years – a peanut butter sandwich and a few celery sticks. Sometimes it would be carrots. Before I bolt out of the car again, Mother mutters, "Tell them..." she paused. "Tell them you ran into a door. On accident."

I nodded. Yes. On accident. Always on accident. "Have a nice day." She says in a voice she rarely uses with me. I look at her swollen eyes. She still has a hangover from last night. Her once silky and beautiful blonde hair is now frazzled in clumps. She doesn't wear any make-up. Her glasses are missing. This has become Mother's typical look.

Because I was so late, I have to report to the office instead. The secretary greets me with a smile. Moments later, the school nurse comes out and leads me into her office, where we go the normal timetable. First, she would examine my face. "What's that above your eye?" she asks.

I nod. "Oh, um... I ran into the door... On accident."

Again, she smiles. I would never get tired of that smile. She takes a clipboard from the top of a cabinet. She begins to flip through a page or two, and then bends down to point it at me. "Here," she says. "you said that last Monday, sweetie."

I hastily change my story. "I was playing baseball and got hit by the bat. It was an accident." Accident. Accident. I am always supposed to say that. If not, I'll get a beating. But the nurse knows better. She scolds me sternly but gently to tell me the truth. I would always break down in the end and confess, even though I know I would get a sound thrashing back at home later.

The nurse tells me that I'll be fine. She asks me to take off my shirt. We've been doing this since who-knows-when, so I obey without hesitation. My shirt has more holes than Swiss cheese. It's the same shirt as yesterday. I get a new one about once in every two years. My pants are just as bad, and my shoes have holes in them. I can wiggle my big toe out in one of them. Mother likes me wearing these things. She has me wear them everyday because she wants to humiliate me.

The nurse counts the records of the slash-like marks on my face, looking for anything she might have missed in the past. She's very thorough. The nurse then opens my mouth to look for any teeth that may have been chipped from having been slammed against the kitchen tile counter top. The nurse jots down a few more notes. "And that," she says, "Is where she stabbed you?"

"Yes, ma'am." I reply. _Oh no! _I tell myself. _I did something wrong... Again. _The nurse must have seen the concern in my eyes. She puts the clipboard down and hugs me. She's so warm. I feel like staying in her arms forever. I hold my eyes tightly shut. She pats my head. I flinch from the swollen bruise Mother had given me this morning. The nurse then breaks the embrace and leaves the room. I rush to put my shirt back on. She doesn't know it, but I do everything as fast as possible.

The nurse returns in a few minutes with Mr. Rome, the school's principal, and two of my teachers, Miss Beilschmidt and Miss Vargas. Mr. Rome knows me very well. I've been in his office more than any other kid in school. He looks at the paper, as the nurse reports her findings. He lifts my chin. I'm afraid to look into his eyes, which is mostly a habit from trying to deal with my own mother. But it's also because I don't want to tell him anything.

Once, about a year ago, he called to ask Mother about my bruises. At that time, he had no idea what was really going on. He just knew I was a kid that liked to steal food. When I came to school the next day, he saw the results of Mother's beatings. He never called her ever again.

Mr. Rome barks that he's had enough of this. I almost leap out of my skin with shock. _He's going to call Mother again, isn't he? _My mind screams. I break down and cry. My body shakes and I mumble like a baby, begging Mr. Rome not to phone Mother. "Please!" I whine, "Please not today! Don't you know? It's Friday!"

Mr. Rome assures me that he isn't going to call Mother, and sends me off to class. Since it's too late for homeroom class, I sprint directly to English class. Today's a spelling test on all the states and their capitals. I'm not prepared. Usually I'm a good student, but for the past few months I gave up on everything in my life, including escaping my misery through my schoolwork.

Upon entering the room, all the students plug their noses and hiss at me. The subsitute teacher, a younger woman, waves her hands in front of her face. She's not used to my smell. As far as possible she hands my test to me, but before I can take my seat at the back of the class, I'm summoned back to the principal's office. The entire room lets out a smirk at me. The reject of the fifth grade.

I run to the office, and I'm there in a flash. My throat is raw and still hurts and burns from yesterday's 'game' Mother had played. The secretary leads me to the teachers' lounge. After she opens the door, it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. In front of me, sitting around a table, are my homeroom teacher, my math teacher, the school nurse, Mr. Rome and a police officer. My feet become frozen.

I don't know whether to run away or wait for the hole to swallow me up. Mr. Rome beckons to me, as the secretary closes the door behind me. I take a seat at the head of the table. "I didn't steal anything... Today." I say. Smiles break everyone's depressed frowns. I had no idea that they were about to risk their jobs to save me.

The police officer explains why Mr. Rome called him. I can feel myself shrink into the chair. The officer asks that I tell him about Mother, which I blatantly refused. Too many people know already, and I know she'll find out. A soft voice calms me. Miss Vargas tells me it's all right. I take a deep breath, wring my hands and reluctantly tell them about Mother and I.

Then the nurse has me stand up and show the policeman the scar on my chest. I immediately tell him that it was an accident, which it was – Mother never meant to stab me. I cry as I spill my guts, telling them Mother punishes me because I'm a 'bad boy'. I wish they would leave me alone. I feel so disgusting inside. I know after all these years, there is nothing anybody could do.

A few minutes later, I am excused to sit in the outer office. As I close the door, all the adults looks at me and shake their heads – in an approving way. I fidget in my chair, watching the secretary type papers. It seems forever before Mr. Rome calls me back into the room. Miss Beilschmidt and Miss Vargas leave the lounge. They seem contented, but at the same time worried. Miss Beilschmidt kneels down and wraps me in her arms. I don't think I will ever forget the scent of her hair. She lets go, turning away so I won't see her cry. Now I am really worried. Mr. Rome gives me a lunch tray from the cafeteria. _God! Is it lunch time already? _I ask myself.

I gobble down the food so fast I can hardly taste it. I finish the tray. Soon the principal returns with a box of cookies, warning me not to eat so fast. I have no idea what's going on. I wonder if Father is going to get me. But I know that's just in my dreams. The policeman asks for my address and telephone number.

_Well, this is it._ I tell myself._ It's back to hell._

The officer writes down more notes as Mr. Rome and the school nurse look on. Soon, he closes his notepad. "I have enough information." he says. I look up at the principal. His face is covered with sweat. I can feel my stomach start to churn.

Mr. Rome opens the door, and I can see all the teachers on their lunch break staring at me. I feel so ashamed. _They know_. I tell myself. _The know now about Mother._ The real truth. It is so important for them to know that I'm not a bad boy. I just want to be liked and loved. I turn down the hall. Miss Beilschmidt is holding Miss Vargas. She's crying. I can hear her sniffles. She gives me another hug and quickly turns away. Miss Beilschmidt shakes my hand. "Be a good kid." she says.

"Yes, ma'am, I'll try." I reply.

The school nurse stands in silence beside Mr. Rome. They all wave me goodbye. Now I know I am going to jail. That's where I belong, after all. _Good_, I say to myself. _At least she won't be able to beat __me there._

The police officer and I walk outside, past the cafeteria. I can see some of the kids from my class playing basketball. A few of them stop playing. "Matthew's busted! Matthew's busted!" they snicker and yell. The policeman touches my shoulder, saying that everything's okay. As he drives me up the street, away from my elementary school, I see some kids who seem to be fazed by my departure. I wonder how they feel, knowing that the kid that always steals everyone's lunches is gone. Miss Vargas told me that she would tell the other kids the truth, the real truth. I would give anything to have been there in class when they found out that I'm not a bad kid.

In a few moments, we arrive at the police station. I expect Mother to be there, so I don't want to get out of the car. The officer opens the door and gently takes me by the elbow, into a big office. No other person is in the room. The policeman sits in a chair, in the corner. He's typing several sheets of paper. I watch the officer closely as I slowly eat my cookies. I don't know when I would be eating something as luxurious as that again.

It's past one pm when the policeman finishes his paperwork. He asks for my telephone number again.

"Why?" I want to know.

"I have to call her, Matthew." he says gently.

"No!" I cried out. "Send me back to school! Don't you get it? She mustn't find out I told you!"

He calms me down with another cookie, as he slowly dials the number. I watch the black dial turn as I get up and walk towards him, straining my whole body while trying to hear the phone ringing on the other end. Mother answers. Her voice scares me. The policeman shooes me away, and takes a deep breath.

"Mrs Kirkland, this is Officer Blanca from the police department. Your son Matthew will not be coming home today. He will be in the custody of the Juvenile Department. If you have any questions, you are free to call. Thank you." he hangs up the phone and smiles at me. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" But the look on his face tells me that he is assuring himself, more than he is me.

A few kilometers later, we are on the highway, heading towards the outskirts of the city. I look to my right and see a sign that reads, '_The Most Peaceful Highway In The World'_. The officer smiles with relief, as we leave the city limits. "Well, Matthew Kirkland," he says, "You're free."

"What?" I ask, clutching onto a cookie. "I don't understand. Aren't you taking me to some kind of jail?"

Again he smiles, and gently pats my head. "No, Matt. You have nothing to worry about anymore. Your mother is never going to hurt you again. I can swear to you on that, I promise."

I lean back against my seat. A single tear runs down my cheek.

"I'm_ free_?"


End file.
